A Slip of the Tongue
by Sienna61
Summary: An innocent slip of the tongue leads to a great many questions ... and answers.
1. Chapter 1

**A Slip of the Tongue**  
by sienna.

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"No, mother, I will _not_ attend Nina's dinner! She keeps trying to set me up with her stupid daughter, and I keep telling her that I don't _need_ a girlfriend, I have a perfectly fine one myself, thank you very much!"

"But, Draco," Narcissa protested. In truth, she did not want to attend Nina's dinner either. Nina Epworth was her childhood friend, however, and Narcissa felt that it was her duty as a friend to attend. Nina was neither interesting nor very pleasant, but she'd been Narcissa's friend for nearly all of her life. Therefore she _had_ to be present.

This, though, she could not tell Draco, because a few months ago, _she_ had been the one to ask Nina to set Draco up with Maria Epworth, Nina's pretty (although somewhat dim-witted), pureblood daughter. Behind Draco's back.

Of course, this was before she'd found out about Draco's six month long relationship with his girlfriend, whom she thoroughly approved of, what with her new and improved theories on blood and all. After all, why would one marry one's own cousin (and risk any sort of… _problems_) when there were other, more suitable people about? (risk-free!)

To Narcissa's dismay, however, Maria Epworth had fallen quite madly in love with her son. It really was to be expected, Narcissa supposed, as her son had been blessed with good looks, (he had the trademark Malfoy blonde hair and grey eyes) and could be quite charming when he tried to be. He was, after all, a Malfoy.

Maria kept sending love note after love note, box after box of chocolates, and Slytherin knows what else to the Malfoy Manor, where Narcissa resided. Narcissa disapproved of Maria's insistent and completely unladylike way of wooing her son, so she had instructed Harpy the house elf to dispose of everything immediately, before Draco set eyes on anything, and figured out what his mother had done.

"Mother! I am sick of you trying to force me to do things that I don't want to do!" Presently, though, Draco wasn't behaving very charmingly at all, and he was making his mother very irritated and annoyed. This had been going on for over two hours now, and she really had better things to be doing than arguing with her son over a silly dinner. Why couldn't he behave as a Malfoy should, and listen to his mother? For once! He was so _stubborn. _Malfoy women rarely get riled up, and on the exceptional occasion that they do, the results were often… Unpleasant.

"I pay Hermione Granger to go out with you!"

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**A/N:** Earlier, I was feeling _quite_ bored while IM-ing my friend, so I said to her, "Your mother pays me to be friends with you." And I was struck with this idea, that Narcissa paid Hermione to go out with Draco (or says she does, anyway), and I simply had to get out of my system. So, here it is. It isn't very good (don't know how many grammatical and spelling errors there are in there), so please tell me if you spot anything weird.

Review, please! Criticism – constructive or non – accepted.

xx  
sienna.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Slip of the Tongue**  
by Sienna

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**Chapter Two: Of Rants and Ramblings**

Draco turned around slowly, and stared at his mother.

"What?" he asked quietly.

Narcissa did not know whether to pretend it was a joke, or look smug, or to admit it had slipped out. In the end, she opted for her usual calm, soothing, motherly voice, and simply carried on as if she had never said anything.

"Anyway, dear, about the dinner on Saturday, you _will_ attend. That's all." Motherly duties or not, she knew when her only son was about to blow, and Narcissa was a clever woman. She nonchalantly reached out and plucked the first book she touched out of the many bookshelves in the extensive Malfoy library, and was just about to hasten out of the library (Malfoy women never run, they hasten), when she felt her son's hand on her arm.

_Uh oh._

"What did you say?" he asked again, his voice even quieter than it had been before.

"The dinner. On Saturday? Be there at seven. Oh, I smell the turkey burning! Must dash, honey! See you then!" Narcissa hastened like she had never hastened before and breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the library door behind her, thankful that Draco hadn't attempted to stop her.

Obviously, Narcissa Malfoy did not cook. She was a Malfoy, after all. What was the point of employing several house elves if one had to cook? She _could_ cook, but she just chose not to. Malfoys – and Blacks - excel in everything, and Narcissa was no exception.

Cooking wasn't the main issue at present, though. Narcissa did not pay Hermione Granger to go out with her son. She didn't even know that they had been dating, which was why she'd asked Nina for help with the set up in the first place. It was only the day after Draco had met Maria and she'd practically thrown herself at him that he'd finally confessed to his mother that he had been going out with Hermione Granger.

Narcissa had noticed that Draco had been behaving rather oddly for the past, oh, year or so, and she'd thought he was lonely. He wasn't, of course, but she'd never seen the Draco-in-love before, and so, being the kind, motherly soul she was, she had tried to make her son feel better. Draco-in-love's behavior wasn't like anyone-else-in-love's behavior, so how was she to know, mother or not, what he was feeling?

Draco was never normal (he was a wizard, for one, and a Malfoy, for another) so his behavior was often extremely out of the ordinary. Ever since he was a small child, Draco was used to getting what he wanted. When he didn't get what he wanted (which was very seldom), however, he would throw tantrums, and sulk, and do other things which usually resulted in his parents getting him whatever he wanted. So he was, er, quite spoilt. But he was a Malfoy, (and an only child) so this didn't really matter.

Anyway, it had taken Draco a good year and a bit to get Hermione to finally go out with him. As per usual, he had sulked a lot, thrown a lot of tantrums, plotted, schemed, and even attempted bribery as well as blackmail, before Hermione had eventually agreed to go on that fateful first date.

Narcissa had no idea why he was behaving so oddly. She didn't know what it was that he was doing in his room (thinking up sappy letters and poems that he would never admit to writing, even under torture), leaving the Manor at strange times (so that he could sit on her doorstep and beg, which was also another thing he would never admit doing), or doing any of the bizarre things he had done during that period.

She was sorry to say that her actions had caused a great many problems (for herself, mostly) and her Malfoy-and-Black pride would not allow her to admit to Draco what she had done. (Which, if you think about it, is rather silly, but who are we to challenge Black-Malfoy's? But if you think about it thoroughly, Narcissa's decision in not telling Draco would be wise, because, Draco being who he is, would obviously find a way to use her mistake to get his way in everything, and what mother would stand idly by and let that happen?)

However, the problem at hand was that she had told Draco that she had paid his girlfriend to go out with him, which wasn't true, but he seemed to believe her. What was she going to do about it? This is why Malfoy (and Black) women never lose their tempers. The results are potentially problematic, for all parties involved.

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**A/N:** Read and review, guys. Thank you to Boogie and Shocks 19 for reviewing. I love you both.. hands out Honeydukes gift vouchers  
I hope you guys like this. It's my first attempt at a non-oneshot, although that isn't any excuse for it to suck, I guess.  
Please tell me what you think of it. Even if you hate it and think it's completely pointless and stupid- at least it's an opinion.  
Thanks. 

xx  
sienna


	3. Chapter 3

**A Slip of the Tongue**  
by Sienna

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**Chapter Three: In which Draco thinks, really, too much.**

Draco was still standing, open mouthed (most unbecoming behavior for a Malfoy, too) at the Malfoy library door that his mother had shut several minutes earlier.

_What?_

She _paid_ Hermione to go out with him? But… But.. That was _preposterous!_ Was she being serious? Why?

His palm hurt, and when he looked down, he was surprised to realize that he'd been clenching his fists so tightly that his perfectly manicured Malfoy fingernails had left fingernail marks on his palm.

Hastily, he shook his hands, trying to get rid of the marks. After all, Malfoys were supposed to be perfect, in every aspect, in every way. Even if one's heart felt like it had been cruelly ripped out of one's chest and stomped upon with three inch, hot pink stilettos, one had to maintain appearances.

But that _was_ how he felt. Betrayed. Hurt. _Damn it!_ He was a Malfoy! Malfoys didn't get treated like this! Malfoys _treat_ people like this! (Not that he treated Hermione badly. He was madly, crazily in love with her, and up until then, he had been pretty sure that she was madly, crazily in love with him as well… Okay, fine, at least a _little_ bit in love with him) They don't _get_ treated badly! He should be angry! Furious! Mad!

He wasn't, though.

It had taken him fifteen painful, embarrassing, long-suffering months (which was four hundred and fifty six days. Or ten thousand, nine hundred and forty-four hours. Six hundred and fifty-six thousand, six hundred and forty minutes. Thirty nine million, three hundred and ninety-eight thousand, four hundred seconds of his precious Malfoy life!) of groveling, torture (verbal, emotional and physical, from his girlfriend's _friend ,_otherwise known as Potty and The Weasel, who had more or less come to accept him as part of Hermione's lives… or _had_ they?), and other things that he did not want to speak of, to _finally_ get Hermione to go out with him.

And it was all a _lie_?

It made sense, though. A bit. After all, his mother loved him very much. He was sure of that. And, all mothers want to see their children happy. His mother wasn't any different. Maybe she'd seen how miserable he was, and figured out that he was in love with Hermione. Maybe she'd decided to take matters into her own hands (perfectly manicured also, of course).

Seeing as how they were immensely wealthy, (Draco was sure that by pawning something like… Lucius' spare pimp cane, it would bring in, well, a lot) it would have been very easy for her to bribe Hermione with enough money to last her entire lifetime, just to go out with Draco for, oh, say, six months or so?

They'd only been going out for six months. Less.  
Their six month anniversary was in a week, actually.  
(Not that Draco, as a man, was supposed to remember, obviously, but him, being a Malfoy, and an intelligent, in love one at that, he had, and had been preparing a lovely Happy Anniversary surprise day for Hermione)

And lately, Hermione had been snappier with him than she was usually. Last night, they'd had an _argument_ (about house elves) which had led (oh, and Crookshanks eating habits as well) to Draco staying at (and also how much time she spent at the office) Malfoy Manor for the night.

Oh no.

His mother had _definitely_ bribed Hermione to go out with him.

But… But… Hermione didn't need the money. She didn't like money. She'd made that inescapably clear when he tried to get her to go on a date with him in exchange for a stunningly beautiful emerald and diamond necklace (this was one of his first attempts, of course), and she'd thrown a fit (and not to mention the necklace, across the park where he'd ambushed her, but he'd gone searching for it after and managed to restore it to its original beauty and flawless state, because he fully intended on giving it to her again, sometime in the hopefully not-so-distant future, and Malfoys didn't give gifts that were anything short of perfect), shouting about how she was a human and could not, _would not_ be bought like an _object_. And the fact that the necklace was _Slytherin_ colored (and you'd think she'd be more about the House Unity...).

Then she'd slapped him (hard, his beautiful Malfoy face had been left with a red mark for three days, twelve hours, forty-six minutes and seven seconds, not that he had been counting. Of course, he could have easily spelled it off, which was what he would have done if it had been anyone but Hermione to leave said imprint on his face, as Malfoys had to look perfect every second, every minute, and every hour of every day. (He did, however, hide out in his room until the mark was gone, obviously, or someone would have seen it and asked lots of questions that Draco didn't really want to answer, or actually know the answer to) But he didn't, because he thought that it could be a memento of sorts, and anyway, she had touched him. Which meant that she liked him), much like when they were in their third year, and stomped off, muttering darkly.

Of course, when they _finally_ started going out, Draco had offered it to her again, she'd rolled her eyes and accepted, and Draco nearly jumped with joy (nearly being the key word, he was still a Malfoy and had some pride left) and fastened it around her neck before kissing her thoroughly.

He'd also made some cheeky remark about her not minding the Slytherin colors anymore, and she'd raised her eyebrows and said that if he wanted her to mind them, she could, to which Draco had hastily said no and taken her hands in his (to stop her from removing the necklace, he'd told her later, but it was really an excuse to hold her hands).

Draco sank down into one of the many plush velvet armchairs (actually, it was his favorite one, it was extra soft and extra comfy) that were scattered around the immense Malfoy library. He put his head in his hands, feeling lost, like a little boy (Incidentally, when he had been a little boy, he had curled up in the very same chair when he had lost his stuffed dragon, but that really is rather off-topic). He needed a hug.

Preferably from Hermione!

But she didn't even _like _him. If she was being paid to go out with him. If. He wasn't sure yet. If she liked him. And if she was being paid. _This isn't even making sense_, he thought miserably.

They needed to talk.

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**A/N**: Here's chapter three. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys are angels. I love you all. :)  
Keep reviewing! 

xx  
Sienna

PS: Two hundred and sixty nine days until Order of the Phoenix comes out… Everywhere… But Australia. _sobs_


	4. Chapter 4

**A Slip of the Tongue**  
by Sienna

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**Chapter Four: Of House Elves and Chess**

Hermione Granger was sitting in her maroon beanbag chair in her apartment, reading Hogwarts: A History, for probably about the seven hundred and thirty second time. (Since she had moved into the apartment a year ago.)

The radio was playing softly in the background as Hermione idly flipped through the pages of the thick book. Nowhere in Hogwarts: A History, did it say that there were _house elves_ in the castle. But, of course, there were. Thousands of them. Who weren't even _paid_.

She frowned at the book. Although it was one of her favorites (she certainly read it often enough) she disapproved of its... _lying_ ways. You would think that a school such as Hogwarts would at least have the decency to pay its servants. Or even give them a day off a week, or something?

However, Hogwarts house elves definitely had better lives than some other house elves. Take, for instant, the house elves of Malfoy Manor. Poor creatures. Not only did they have to work tirelessly to keep the (unnecessarily) large place beautiful (and it was, really) and clean, but they had to abide by their (stupid) master's constant whining and absurd requests, which could come at very (very, very, very) odd hours of the day.

Tossing the book aside, she got up and headed for the kitchen to get a drink. (With her own two hands, thank you very much. No magic or _help_ –coughhouseelvescough- would be needed to do something so simple, she was capable of doing it herself. And she wasn't _lazy_ like a certain blonde, indolent, smug-assed Slytherin, otherwise known as her boyfriend…)

The night before, Hermione had gotten into a very heated argument with said boyfriend. Regarding house elves. They had been enjoying a very nice dinner (apart from a few _minor _disagreements about how much she spent in the office, and how much Crookshanks was eating)in Hermione's (very tidy) home, when all of a sudden, he jumped out of his chair, hurried over to the fireplace, threw in some Floo Powder and stuck his head into the green flames, shouting loudly for Dipsy.

Hermione had narrowed her eyes at this. There was no need to order the elves about! Honestly! He could easily have flooed –or apparated- home himself without having to trouble his poor elf, who was probably up to her ears (or maybe even higher, as house elves are not large) in housework.

Then he had ordered poor Dipsy to fetch his silver quill on his desk. In a very bossy, arrogant way. Dipsy, of course, handed it to him almost instantaneously, and Draco had pulled his head out of the flame, without thanking her or anything. After he had inconsiderately dragged her away from her work, to fetch something so trivial, like a _quill_, he hadn't even bothered to thank her for her efforts!

Holding the quill in his long fingers, he had turned to look at Hermione with a great big smile on his face. But Hermione was not smiling. In fact, she was frowning and she had crossed her arms, (and her legs) and was tapping her foot on the ground in typical I-am-Angry fashion.

"What?" Draco had asked. (Quite stupidly, in Hermione's opinion.)

"You didn't even _thank_ Dipsy!" Hermione cried, outraged.

Draco blinked at her. "So?"

Hermione glared at him. "So? I thought you were supposed to have been brought up with _manners_?"

"Wha- I _do_ have manners!" he protested indignantly.

"No you don't! You didn't even say thank you!"

"You don't need to thank the house elves," Draco told her gently. But instead of soothing her, it only made her angrier.

"Well then! I don't want arrogant scum in here. Out!" she told him, pointing to the door.

"What? Hermione! Baby, you're overreacti-" Draco pleaded imploringly.

"Don't say I'm overreacting, Malfoy," Hermione warned.

"But.. But they're _house elves_. I know you feel.. _Strongly_ about them, but honestly, babe, they _like _doing work. And they're supposed to be tre-"

Hermione's eyes narrowed into slits. She hadn't been _that_ mad, but if he really thought that house elves were _supposed_ to be treated that way… "Out. NOW!" She pulled out her wand threateningly. Draco eyed it warily. An angry witch was bad enough, but this was a very, very, very, _very_ (veryveryveryveryvery) **smart** angry witch. (In other words, he feared for his life.) "I mean it!"

Sighing exasperatedly (which really was a very brave thing for Draco Malfoy to do), Draco turned on his heel and apparated away (which was the smart thing to do, really, because Hermione nearly had steam coming out of her ears).

And that was how she spent her night. Fighting with Draco Malfoy.

Muttering darkly about the cruelty of Malfoys towards house elves and not paying any attention whatsoever to her surroundings, she nearly tripped over the long legs of her best friend, Harry Potter, who sat on the carpeted floor, playing Wizard's Chess on her coffee table, with her other best friend, Ronald Weasley.

Damn. She'd forgotten that they were there. For once, Harry and Ron hadn't been making any noise. Or maybe they had, and she had been too busy thinking about Draco Malfoy's imperious, slave-driving, selfish ways.

"Oh, Hermione. Give it a rest," Harry sighed, as she scowled. Harry propped his chin on his arm and stared at the chessboard in deep concentration.

"House elves_ like_ working, Hermione," Ron added. "Hurry up, mate." He nudged Harry, who was still staring intently at the chessboard. "They don't want to be paid. I thought you'd already realized that with the Winky incident in school. They're _happy_! _Please_ don't start with the Spew thing again."

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Ronald Weasley! It's _S.P.E.W._! And it has dismembered, because its _members _didn't support the causes!" She glared at him. "And anyway, I didn't say I was going to start S.P.E.W. again. I was just annoyed because _Malfoy_ just _orders_ his house-elf about, like there's no tomorrow!"

Harry sighed again. He didn't look up at her, simply kept looking at the chessboard. "Hermione. He's _Malfoy_! What do you expect? He's grown up ordering the things –house elves," he corrected hastily, as though he knew that she was about to open her mouth and give him the telling off of his life, "around. You can't expect him to suddenly stop."

"It's been six months," Hermione said sullenly. "And he just keeps asking poor Dipsy to do silly things like getting him his, I don't know, _shoe_ which will be probably three feet away from him. It drives me _crazy_! And then he said that Crookshanks was getting fat." She gazed across the room at Crookshanks, who was sprawled across the carpet in a patch of sunlight. (He was, actually, getting a bit overweight, but Hermione couldn't see it.)

Ron snorted and Hermione fixed her metal-melting glare at him. "He is _not_! And why are you on his side, anyway?" she demanded suspiciously.

"Hurry _up,_ Harry," Ron said quickly, choosing to pretend he hadn't heard her.

Harry thought for a moment, carefully turned the chessboard in a full circle, peering at it from every possible angle, and finally said, "Castle to E4."

"Sucker!" Ron yelled, pumping his fist into the air. "Knight to E4!" Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron's black knight moved to cruelly stick its sword into Harry's white castle, which collapsed.

"Boys," she muttered, and stalked off into her kitchen to get that drink. After pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice, she walked back into the lounge, where Harry was banging his head on the table, muttering, "Why didn't I see that? Why? Why!?", while Ron gloated.

"What are you two doing here anyway?" she asked, sipping the cold juice.

"Ginny and Luna have gone shopping," Ron explained. "We didn't want to get in their way. So we decided to get into yours."

Harry stopped hitting his head on the table. "Also, we wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid. Like you did the last time you and Malfoy had a fight." Harry smirked at Hermione.

"Harry! You said you weren't going to bring that up again," Hermione pointed one chipped Passion fruit Pink finger at him threateningly.

"I didn't," Harry assured her. "I was just bringing it up… In passing."

"Well, I'm not going to do it again," sniffed Hermione. "So, if you're here just to keep an eye on me, don't worry." She plopped down on her beanbag chair and eyed the chessboard in between the two of them. Harry was in a very bad position. If he made one wrong move, Ron would win, hands down. But if he moved his queen to the right square, he would have quite a good chance at beating Ron.

"Bishop to F7," Harry said foolishly. Hermione sighed and set her glass carefully down onto the floor, as she watched Harry's bishop move four squares diagonally to the square. Ron's eyes glittered as he tried to conceal his grin. "Oh no!" Harry cried, staring in horror as he realized his mistake. "No, no, no, no, no! Can I take it back?"  
he pleaded with Ron, who smirked, prodded his black castle forward, which promptly smashed Harry's bishop into smithereens.

Just then, Crookshanks flopped onto Hermione's feet. "Can you believe it?" she asked, stroking his orange fur. "Dra- Malfoy thinks you're fat. You're not, of course," she assured him. "Just because he's as skinny as a toothpick, it doesn't mean anyone else is fat. Self-absorbed git."

"Now, now Granger," drawled the familiar voice of the self-absorbed git, who had apparently just apparated into her apartment. "Play nicely."

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**A/N: **I'm not happy with this chapter, as I told Boogie. But, anyway, here it is. I can think of nothing more to do with it.

What do you guys think?

Oh, and since so many people are asking, I meant the Order of the Phoenix movie. Sorry. I should have said. It's coming out on July 17th in the rest of the world but Australia. How unfair is that? We have to wait four months until we watch it on the big screen, which really is very sad.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I love you all.

xx  
Sienna


	5. Chapter 5

**A Slip of the Tongue**

By Sienna

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**Chapter Five: Of confrontations (and revelations)**

Hermione squeaked and jumped out of her comfy beanbag chair.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, hands on hips, adopting her best Get-Out-Of-Here expression.

"You tell me," Draco said quietly. He turned to Harry (who had been staring open-mouthed at Draco) and Ron (who had glanced up at Draco and looked back at the chessboard in front of him with a barely-concealed, big, goofy grin). "Potter, Weasley. Mind finishing your game somewhere else?"

Harry and Ron exchanged looks and then looked at Draco. After a moment, Ron pushed his knight forward, and said, "Checkmate." Harry looked devastated. (He had been sure that he could have won, for maybe the second time during all his years of friendship with Ronald Weasley, Chess Extraordinaire with three –or four, well, five, tops- more moves, but now…)

Fortunately, though, he didn't have to go through the agony of seeing his King being bashed to bits, because Ron packed up the board quickly (most reluctantly, of course, because he loved coming first before Harry, even if it was in Chess, although he had done it before hundreds –if not thousands- of times. It was one of the rare occasions where Ron could feel better than Harry, and it was a great feeling, because, honestly, who wouldn't be just a _teensy_ bit jealous if their best friend in the whole world was _Harry Potter_, the Boy Who Lived, Defeated Lord Vo- I mean, You-Know Who, and whatever they were calling him these days? Ron loved Harry, but coming in second all the time –except during Fifth Year, when he was made a Prefect instead of Harry, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha- could get a bit tiring. But enough about Ron).

"See you later, Hermione," Ron said. (He was still feeling a bit upset about Malfoy's complete lack of _timing_, I mean, _hello_, he didn't even have time to _gloat_ about beating Harry, but anyway, he was in a good mood so he decided to be nice) "Malfoy." He nodded at Draco.

"Bye, Hermione. Ginny'll.. call you later," Harry added (still feeling happy about Malfoy's timely arrival. Now Ron couldn't gloat. Take _that_, redhead boy!) And with that, they both disappeared with two _pops_. (Or maybe they just disappeared under Harry's Invisibility Cloak; they were both smart enough to know when a good show was coming up…)

Hermione glared accusingly at Draco. "What gives you the right to kicking my two _best_ friends out of _my_ house?"

"We need to talk," Draco said, sliding his hands into his pockets. Now that he was here, it didn't seem like it was such a good idea. What if Hermione really _was_ only seeing him because his mother paid her? What if she said yes, that was what was going on? What was he to do then?

But a Malfoy is a Malfoy, and they always do what they set out to do. (Mostly)

(But if she did break up with him, maybe he could _Obliviate_ her? Pretend nothing ever happened? And maybe he could _Obliviate_ himself as well, while he was at it. But people would ask a lot of questions. Maybe if he said they had been put under a Love Potion? That would always work. Hermione had once told him that some Gryffindor love struck chit, Vomilda Rain, or something, had once tried to give Potter some Love Potion spiked Chocolate Frogs, or something, but Weasley had eaten it instead –serves him right for being so greedy- and had fallen hopelessly in love with the girl, but that was not really relevant to anything…)

Hermione, meanwhile, was gaping at him.

_We need to talk_. Merlin. Was he about to break up with her? Those were the four single words that any woman would hate to hear. Oh no, oh no, oh no. As annoyed as she was with the git, she loved him (although she had never told him) and she most certainly did not want him to break up with her.

(Besides, it was only polite for him to let her break up with him, and were Malfoys not supposed to be the epitome of.. Well, not goodness, but they had to be aristocratic, and polite, and all the other decent adjectives that aren't _too_ goody-goody. But Draco, as much as he would like to think so, was not really the perfect model of the Original Perfect Malfoy. He had broken at least three quarter of the rules in the _Malfoy Handbook: How to Be The Perfect Malfoy - Version Two Point Three_ (there had been a few minor adjustments back in 28 BC and then some more in 45 AD, and again in 1357), including the whole of _Chapter Thirty-Seven:_ _Muggleborns are Below Malfoys_. However, Draco had been planning for a while now to make a few more changes in the _Malfoy Handbook_, so he figured that when he got around to doing that, he _would_, in fact, be the Perfect Malfoy.)

But a Gryffindor is a Gryffindor, and Hermione was as Gryffindor-ish as you could get. Brave, loyal, and really, too smart for her own good (which was more a Ravenclaw trait, but anyway), that was Hermione. So she calmly folded her arms, made sure her mouth was closed (flies could get in, or worse, invisible Doxys, and that would _not _be a pretty sight, although she did know how to get rid of it, of course, as she'd read all about it) and gazed up at him, a mildly defiant expression on her face.

Draco decided to get straight to the point.

"Do you- How are you?"

Maybe not.

"I'm fine, thank you," Hermione replied. She was a bit shocked and confused, but she managed to keep her voice and expression mild. Like I said, she was Hermione Granger, and a Gryffindor to boot. Nothing is impossible (to her). (Except... Nevermind, let's just stick with nothing is impossible. Hey, she's a witch.)

"So." Draco took his hands out of his pockets and fiddled with his fingers (which also was a Malfoy no-no, as is stated in _Chapter_ _Three: The Malfoy Image, Clause 2.75: _Fidgeting, including twiddling of fingers, tapping of foot, and any other suchlike manner, is strictly forbidden, as it exudes nervousness, which is not part of the Malfoy Traits or Behavioral Characteristics, as stated in _Chapter Two: Malfoy Behavior_, _Clause 3.79_)

Hermione raised her eyebrow impatiently. If he was going to break up with her, he needn't take so long to do it.

"Stop wasting my time, Malfoy," she said.

Draco looked at her. _Oh no,_ he thought, his stomach feeling like it was sinking down, past his stomach, squeezing by his kidneys, and somewhere into the region of his knees (which, incidentally, also broke about three Malfoy rules). She most definitely didn't- wasn't- He took a deep breath.

"Does my mother pay you to go out with me?" he blurted out. (If anyone –usually someone from the Malfoy Behavior Council, M.B.C. for short- had been grading him on his Malfoy Performance Levels, M.P.Ls –taken once every two years- he would definitely have gotten a W, for Weasley, instead of his usual S, for Supreme Malfoy, or, when he did exceptionally well, U -Ultimate Malfoy)

Hermione stared at him. _What_?

"Well?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth without saying anything. Draco, fearing the worst, closed his eyes slowly and opened them again (which was a tried and true tactic of hiding one's emotions, or at least it said in _Chapter Three: The Malfoy Image, Clause 1.57 _in the _Malfoy Handbook_)

"I'll just… Go then," he started to say, and began to turn away from Hermione's wide-eyed gaze.

"What on _earth_ would give you that idea?" Hermione demanded. Draco turned back to look at her.

"You didn't answer my question," he reminded her. Hermione wouldn't lie, would she? She was a Gryffindor, after all. She was supposed to tell the truth, as honorable Gryffindors should.

"Of _course_ she doesn't!" Hermione thought that maybe Draco Malfoy had gone a little bit mad. What an _absurd_ thing to say! If he _was_ mad, then she'd better think of a way to calm him down (hanging around angry, mad people is never a good idea) and then leave quickly (hanging around mad people is not a good idea).

Suddenly, a beautiful black owl swooped in through Hermione's open window, dropping a letter onto her head. Without taking her eyes off Draco, she wordlessly opened the unaddressed envelope and pulled out a letter.

Draco watched as Hermione quickly scanned the note. Her expression changed from exasperation, then she smirked, and then she looked amused. What was this? Who was it from? Why was someone writing to her!? Was it a _love letter_ from one of her secret admirers? Her real boyfriend? One whom she dated freely? Unpaid?

Hermione looked up at Draco again, watching the array of expressions on his face. Then she looked down at the letter, and after a second of contemplating what to do, silently handed him the piece of parchment.

He narrowed his eyes and looked down, and he recognized his mother's neat, elegant cursive immediately (although it might have been the big bold Malfoy crest on the top of the parchment, which was also scented, that had given the identity of its sender away at once).

_Dear Hermione, _it said.

_I'm terribly sorry, but earlier today, when Draco and I were having a little disagreement, I told him that I pay you to go out with him. I think he believes me. If he comes looking for you, he might be a bit upset, as you know how he can get, so I am just warning you before he comes and throws a tantrum. _

_Oh, and I do hope you will be able to attend the dinner party at the Epworth's this Saturday at 7 o'clock. If Draco hasn't apologized for whatever it is that he's done, you can come as my guest. If he has, then he'll ask you, I'm sure, and then Maria Epworth might stop attempting to seduce him. I assume he has told you about her?_

_See you then, dear._

_And I apologize for putting the idea into his head. He was extremely infuriating and I could not think of anything else to say._

_Narcissa _

Draco stared at the letter. His mother had made a joke at his expense to his _girlfriend!_ 'And you know how he can get'! What did _that _mean? And she said he would throw a _tantrum_! What did she think he was? And! She had called him '_extremely infuriating_'! He glared at the letter and considered burning it (or maybe jinxing it and sending it back to his mother? Meddlesome woman!) before feeling Hermione's gaze on him.

He looked up at her for a few moments, before sighing, and saying wearily, "You aren't being bribed, blackmailed maybe, by anyone to pretend to like me? You like me, at least, a little bit?"

Hermione was sure, then, that he had gone crazy. The letter from his mother (funny woman) had just explained everything. "Draco," she said slowly. "No, I am not being bribed or blackmailed to go out with you. I don't like you a little bit."

Draco's mouth fell open in hurt, shock, anger. So she wasn't being bribed or blackmailed, was this some sort of joke to humiliate him or what? She didn't even like him a little bit? And he loved her more than anything else in the world and she didn't harbor a teeny, tiny speck of affection towards him?

"I love you," Hermione concluded, tugging nervously on each one of her fingers with her other hand, as she met his eyes, hoping for a positive reaction. She'd never told him that before.

Draco was still plotting murder in his mind and wasn't paying much attention.

(He was thinking about _Chapter Forty-Seven: Malfoy Vengeance, Clause 5.5: Mild torture methods (untraceable)_, but he didn't really feel like torture Hermione, he really loved her, although she didn't like him at all. His mother, on the other hand, was a different matter altogether. Anyway, she could figure out how to get rid of the curses or whatever it was he used on her quite easily, as she was a Malfoy (and also a Black) and knew the Malfoy Handbook back to front. She didn't follow it much, though, but surely she knew that Hell hath no fury like a Malfoy scorned? It was in Chapter One, for Merlin's sake! But there was nothing in the book about a Malfoy scorning another Malfoy, although it was probably an unwritten rule that Malfoy injustice against another Malfoy was strictly prohibited. But she was his mother, though. And it _did_ say in the handbook that a Malfoy might be the most important thing in the world, but nothing was as important as another Malfoy)

"I-what?" he asked. Hope surged through his (pureblooded) veins.

"I love you," Hermione repeated, seeming a bit more confident now that she had said it before. "And no one's paying me to go out with you."

Without another word, Draco pulled her into a tight embrace and buried his face into her hair. "I love you too," he said, his voice muffled. "And I'm sorry about the house elves. And insulting Crookshanks," he added as an afterthought.

Hermione smiled into his shoulder.

* * *

**A/N:** I loved making up the _Malfoy Handbook_. I should have thought of a better title, but I am fresh out. Does anyone have any suggestions? Tell me and I'll change it. And I loved making up the Chapters and the Clauses. It was fun. 

I have a feeling that there are a lot of mistakes in this chapter, so if you guys could let me know, I'll get onto it.

Thank you to everyone for reviewing. Hugs for all! Hope you had a great weekend, and aren't dreading Monday, like I am. School is such a drag. Christmas is coming up.

Xx  
Sienna


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